


These Fears of Mine

by Wowzaitsamanatee



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Author Doesn’t Know How To Tag, Cause that’s fun, Elyan - Freeform, Freya but a ghost, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Lancelot but a ghost, Magic Revealed, WOO, author knows nothing about Arthurian legends, balinor too, leon - Freeform, like tons of angst, no beta we die like Arthurian knights, no beta we die like men, so just inserts Greek mythology into work, whoops, will but also a ghost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:34:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24408883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wowzaitsamanatee/pseuds/Wowzaitsamanatee
Summary: Trapped in a mysterious forest, Merlin must over come his worst obstacle yet: his own fears.That’s a bloody awful summary, I apologize.
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 116





	These Fears of Mine

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Merlin fic. It was supposed to be something quick to write in between other projects but it ended up taking a little longer. Anyway, enjoy. Also, I’m quite bad with HTML so some of the formatting might be a little wonky.
> 
> Additional note: this fic was influenced by another which I have been unable to find. If you recognize something please tell me so I can give proper credit. Thanks (: 
> 
> Disclaimer: I unfortunately do not own these characters nor claim to own them. If I did Merthur would be canon. Anyway...

There was something _different_ about the forest. It seemed to stretch on forever. And it _moved,_ shifted as though it was one living entity. Or like it was fluid, slowly flowing around them. And when they looked away, it shifted again. 

Needless to say, they were horribly lost.

At first, Merlin had joked about it. He’d mentioned on several occasions before that going through a forest with “curse” in the name was a spectacularly bad idea. True to his character, Arthur ignored him, and dragged him and his knights on through the Cursed Glade of Deimos. 

(“You don’t actually believe this stuff, do you _Mer_ lin?

“Well, I don’t know whether it’s cursed or not, I just know that there has to be a reason for it to be called “cursed” and I doubt it’s because it the happiest place in the land.” 

“Shut up”)

So when it became clear that they were so obviously lost, it was hard for Merlin to not point out that he _had_ , in fact, _warned_ Arthur of this. After a while of wandering aimlessly and losing daylight, however, he had become more solemn. 

Well, that and the fact that his magic seemed to have no way of helping them, either. He had tried every spell imaginable that could have any use, but to no prevail. He felt blocked. Like the energy that usually went towards his magic was draining. 

So they set up camp for the night, figuring they weren’t making any progress, anyway. Merlin had packed rations, so that kept them reasonably fed for the night, but it wouldn’t be enough to keep them fed if they were lost any longer. 

By the time the fire was waning, everyone had fallen asleep but Merlin and Arthur. The latter had been staring morosely into the swirling forest for ages now. 

“Arthur, you might as well rest. Who knows how long we’ll have to go tomorrow.” 

“What did Gaius say about this forest?” He asked quietly and without looking at the servant. It caught Merlin by surprise.

“I thought you didn’t believe in that stuff.”

“I _don’t._ But it’s worth knowing, anyway.” He shot Merlin a playful glare.

“Right, then. Well, he said that… uh… Deimos is a deity recognized by a group of people called the Graecia. Supposedly the god of fear and worry.” Arthur hummed.

“Sound right up your alleyway, then. Merlin scoffed but continued.

“Well, the Graecia aren’t practiced in the Old Religion, exactly. They do use magic but they have there own beliefs. And so, according to Gaius’s books, they cursed this forest as tribute to Deimos.” 

“Well, what’s the curse supposed to be?”

“The books didn’t say. There’s no documents that indicate that anyone who has been here… has come out. Though I have to imagine the curse has something to do with the fact that we have no clue where we are.”

“That is, if there is actually a curse.” Arthur stubbornly pointed out.

“Seriously? How else would you explain all this?” Merlin scoffed incredulously.

“I don’t know. I think I’d like to get some sleep, though.” He gave the servant a playful punch in the shoulder, before turning over to lay down. Merlin did the same thing, with a:

“Goodnight as well, _sire_.”

Neither of them fell asleep right away. They both stared out into the opposite direction, watching the forest shift with glazed eyes and a sense of unease. 

The next morning, Merlin awoke to Gwaine nudging at his shoulder with his boot. 

“Up you go, the Princess wants to get an early start.” 

“Of course”

They set off again, Arthur determined to keep moving in the same direction, despite the growing proof that there was something magical happening. They rode without any way of distinguishing where they were until about mid-day, based on the sunlight filtering through the heavy canopy. Merlin’s eyes had nearly adjusted to the subtle movement in his peripheral vision. Every once and awhile he would look around quickly, but for the most part he tried to ignore it, and the growing feeling of unease. He was nearly about to suggest that someone climb one of the towering trees to look out over the woods, when he suddenly saw something _else_ in the corner of his eye.

He stopped abruptly, startling the horse behind him, Percival’s horse. His head turned slowly as he ignored the confused shouts of the knights behind him. 

There was something… shining. A light barely seen between the trees. He pulled out of the line of horses to look closer. 

“Arthur,” he called up front, “over here.”

“What is it?”

“Somethings over there.” He pointed at the light that he could now tell was pulsing. Arthur’s face changed from frustration to startled hope. He charged ahead before Merlin could tell him better. 

“Arthur, wait!” He began to set off, too. Before he did, though, he gestured to the nights behind him to follow quickly. They had already begun to, but Merlin knew it was important for them to stick together. It was too easy to get lost in these intertwined trees.

The sorcerer approached a stopped Arthur to see what he was looking at. 

A large, stone platform stood in front of them. Ivy and other plants covered every surface, and the stone itself was cracked and looked as though it could disintegrate at a single touch. On top, there sat an arch, made of the same stone and in a similar state, except at the peak. There, was the source of the light. A gem the size of a fist was pulsing bright, white light. It was beautiful and quite clearly of magic. The light from the gem created something of a curtain over the arch. He looked at Arthur whose gaze had moved from the gem to the platform again, where Merlin noticed the engraving. There was a series of symbols he barely recognized. 

“Symbols of the Old Religion?” asked Arthur.

“No, remember, the Graecia weren’t followers of the Old Religion. This is something different.”

“Do you recognize it?” Arthur asked when he saw Merlin’s calculating stare.

“I’ve seen it before. I might be able to translate the main idea.” Arthur looked almost impressed.

“You never cease to surprise me.” He scoffed.

Merlin kneeled down to trace the runes with his hand, careful not to make them crumble. Graecian lettering. Gaius had just been talking to him about this. But he didn't know how to read it. Clearly. What he did know, however, was a spell that could help translate. Luckily, Gwaine and the other knights had caught up just about then and the former had begun to examine the structure as well. 

It was just enough distraction for Merlin to utter the words:

_Soilleireachd don teanga_

Before him the symbols swirled with yellow light, before they settled in a form he could understand. He glanced around, quickly, checking to see if any others could see the same thing. Once it seemed as though they couldn’t, he turned back to read the words.

_To pass beyond this cursed glade_

_A price to Deimos must be paid_

Behind him the knights had begun an argument over whether Gwaine should just take his chances and run through the arch, curse or not. Arthur, being his impartial self, was still eyeing the gem. 

“It says that a price must be paid, to get out of here. I think.”

“What price?” Arthur waked to stand over Merlin’s shoulder.

“I don’t know.” He was still looking down at the engravings. “Perhaps we do have to go through the arch? But we don’t know what the price could be. It’s too dangerous.”

“I’ll go” Gwaine called out from behind them. 

“Nonsense. I will.” Leon stepped forward. 

“Neither of you will.” Elyan spoke up. Percival looked like he was about to protest, too, but he was interrupted by his king.

“No. I will.” Arthur looked determined.

“We can’t let you do that.” Leon looked defiant. “You’re our King. Camelot needs you.”

“Exactly. And we don’t know what the price is anyway. Perhaps it’s not dangerous”

His knights looked unconvinced, and prepared to argue for longer if it wasn’t for another voice to speak up.

Merlin was standing on the platform, already, back directly against the silvery veil.

“Let’s hope it isn’t.” He said, attempting to sound playful despite the pained look in his eyes.

No one had much time to react, although they did accordingly.

Percival and Gwaine were quick to start running towards the veil. Leon and Elyan yelled out at the servant.

Arthur watched in shock.

Merlin stepped back. A piercing shriek emitted from the light, high-pitched and agony-filled. Hands flew over the ears of the knights as they watched their friend hover midway between the two sides. He was pale and his eyes were open. He looked as good as dead. But his hand twitched ever-so-slightly, which gave Arthur and the others hope.

Then all of a sudden, the winds picked up. Something formed in front of Merlin, a figure. It was as though it was made of the wind. Pale features began to form before their eyes, until it was a recognizable person. A person Arthur did, in fact, recognize.

_Will._

He looked at Merlin, coldly.

“You know I died because of you?” Merlin let out a strangled noise in surprise.

“Will, I—“ the servant cried, but he was interrupted by the ghostly Will.

“All for what? A king who doesn’t even know your secret? Who would hate the true you?” 

Arthur choked. What was Will talking about? He couldn’t imagine Merlin keeping a secret. And he couldn’t imagine ever hating him for _anything._

“You couldn’t protect me, just like you won’t be able to protect him.”

“ _No_!” Merlin cried.

The figure shifted, this time it took the form of a beautiful woman. 

“You couldn’t protect me, either. You promised me the world. Why did you betray me? Why did you let your precious king kill me?” Merlin looked at her in heartbroken shock.

“ _Freya…_ no _”_ He cried and shook his head.

Arthur couldn’t believe his ears. Who was this girl? And he had killed her? He had no memory of her haunted face. The guilt sat low in his stomach. 

The guilt was worse in Merlin.

“You said that you loved me.” Were Freya’s last words before she shifted again. Merlin looked on in shock once more. 

Arthur recognized this one, again. He had watched Merlin cry over the body of Balinor, the last dragonlord. At the time he had assumed it was for the sake of Camelot.

Balinor’s eyes bore down on the now-sobbing Merlin.

“Son” he said simply. Arthur froze. Merlin swallowed.

“Father.” He replied shakily.

“You have betrayed me, son.” Merlin shook his head. “You have betrayed my ways. Your history. Your ancestry.” 

“Father…” he was still shaking his head.

Balinor was Merlin’s father. Arthur stumbled to the ground. He became aware of confused mumbles from behind him, yet he ignored them. He was trying to process…

The winds shifted again, taking the form of a face Arthur himself, as well as the men behind him, felt pained to see.

Lancelot stood in front of Merlin. But he looked different. 

They had never seen such a cruel look on the man's face.

“I walked into a similar veil for you. You and Arthur, of course. Both of you are so willing to die for the cause. And I was, too. The least you could do, to honor me, was to stop lying to everyone. Stop deceiving and tricking and making people think you are not a monster.” 

Merlin looked purely shocked this time. He struggled a little for the first time, oncoming panic written on his face.

“I should've let you die.”

On the word _die_ Lancelot’s voice changed. It changed into a voice Merlin knew too well. Arthur knew it, too.

He _would_ know his own voice.

A ghostly Arthur stood there. Merlin looked confused, shocked, and _terrified._ His breath heaved his chest up and down. 

“ _Mer_ lin.” Ghost-Arthur said with the familiar stress on the _Mer._ But it wasn’t familiar. Not to Merlin and not to Arthur. It was said with the utmost disgust and contempt, and betrayal either of them as ever heard directed at Merlin. 

The servant looked on in terror. 

“You betrayed me. You betrayed my trust. You’re a monster.” The word monster echoed around them

Real-Arthur could not understand what was going on. 

“ _No_! I promise… I promise it was all for you! Everything I did!” The boy cried.

“Shut up! You don’t deserve to live.”

Merlin looked at him with the most pain he’d ever seen. He stopped crying, and just looked… ashamed. 

“Years of deceiving. Of pretending. This all ends now.”

Real-Arthur tried to make sense of this. Why was this happening? Why was this ghost apparition of himself saying this? 

What was Merlin hiding?

Then the wind began to swirl around Merlin in shades of orange and red. 

Flames. 

_A pyre._ Arthur thought. _He’s on a pyre._

Merlin had stopped moving all together. He looked up at the sky as though he accepted his death. They weren’t real flames, of course. But as far as Arthur could tell, they seemed real to Merlin. 

The fake flames had reached Merlin’s neck, when suddenly the wind stopped. 

Was it over? 

Merlin looked down as the body, still standing in the archway. Then he looked at the ground in front of him, where Arthur looked too. 

The wind had one last trick to play. One last fear to display.

On the ground in front of him, were bodies.

The first one to come to Merlin’s attention was Gaius’s. Lying, eyes open and pale, Merlin’s surrogate father stared up into oblivion. Merlin cried out. Next to Gaius was his mother, in the same state.

“No. _No no no._ ” He murmured, shaking his head. 

Beyond there were more dead bodies. Leon, Percival, Elyan. Gwaine. Morgana. Gwen. Each one Merlin felt his heart stabbed. His eyes trailed to the last one, and so did Arthur’s.

The king of Camelot lay there, dead as can be. 

“NO!” Merlin screamed. 

That’s when it happened. Something no one was prepared for. 

Merlin’s body had been kept between that archway the entire time as he endured the emotional torture. But seeing Arthur’s body… the man he had tried so hard to protect. His king. His best friend. 

Real-Arthur watched his servant’s eyes glow gold as he broke free from the enchantment. Arthur put all the pieces together with a shock.

_Magic_ . _Merlin_ has _magic._

The boy fell down to the fake body of Arthur just as the wind cleared and it disintegrated. He landed on his hands and knees, his head pressed to the ground. 

Behind him the veil in the archway swirled, a clearing into a field with wildflowers.

The price was paid. Merlin faced his greatest fears.

Arthur stepped towards Merlin. He didn’t know what to say. What to do. 

He had magic. He had lied to Arthur for years. He had betrayed his trust and broken the law. He had known Arthur would feel this way. He was _terrified_ of Arthur feeling this way.

He stopped a couple feet in front of the boy, not knowing what to do. A hand moved him aside and Gwaine came over to set his hand on Merlin’s back. The boy was shaking profusely. His head was still down, like he refused to look up.

Percival came up behind and put another arm on the boy. The man's eyes met Arthur’s, concerned and calculating at what Arthur’s reaction would be. 

Then, after all the exhausting emotional trauma, Merlin passed out. They all stood there for a moment, to look at the boy. To review every interaction they’d had with him. Every conversation, every fight where it became clear he had saved them. Every chance he had to use magic. Every chance he had to use magic _against_ them. Every chance he had to tell them of his magic. Every time he must have felt terrified of them. 

And every time he must have suffered to save them from suffering. Last one being just mere moments ago. 

They reached something of a silent agreement. Signed with their eye contact, they decided that they trusted Merlin. He has some explaining to do first, but they trusted him. 

Percival moved to pick him up. 

They walked through the archway and to the other side of the woods with ease. Arthur was the last to go through. He watched the limp boy the entire way home.

He couldn't bring himself to be mad at him. He tried. He tried hard. He felt upset, and perhaps frustrated. But there was no anger towards Merlin. Why hadn’t he told him. Seconds later he answered his own wondering; he’d been _scared._ Scared, not of dying, he never seemed to be afraid of dying, but scared of Arthur hating him. Of Arthur thinking he had betrayed him. And of not being able to save Arthur until the very last moment. Just how many times _had_ he saved him?

When they reached Camelot, Arthur brought Merlin straight to a Gaius. He explained what happened, or as well as he could, not fully understanding himself. Gaius hugged the sleeping boy and laid him down in his bed. He poured a potion Arthur didn’t recognize down his throat and pulled the blankets around him. 

“For untroubled sleep.” Gaius explained. They walked into the main room and closed the door behind them. “Sire, you should get some rest, too.”

Arthur didn’t move. He had the question weighing on his chest.

“Gaius… did you know Merlin had magic?” Gaius looked up quickly. Arthur hadn’t explained that last part in much detail. This shock was brief, replaced with a harrowing look. 

“Yes, sire.” 

“How long has he?” 

“Since he was born, my lord. He’s destined to be the most powerful sorcerer alive.”

“Merlin? The most powerful sorcerer?”

“Destined to be great and powerful, and to protect you. 

Arthur had no response, he simply left after that.

The next day, early in the morning, Elyan came to tell Arthur that Merlin had woken up. When he reached the physician’s office Gwaine and Percival had just stepped out, looking solemnly relieved. Arthur approached them.

“How is he?” They didn’t answer. Instead, Gwaine asked:

“You aren’t going to do anything rash, are you?”

The king gave him an inscrutable look as he brushed past them. 

From the look on Merlin’s face he could tell that the boy didn’t think he would be coming.

“Arthur…” 

“Merlin. How are you?” It was a courtesy ask, and he delivered it rather coldly.

“I’m… uh fine.” Arthur nodded. 

They sat in heavy silence for a moment. 

“I’m sorry,” came the quiet murmur from the servant. Arthur had expected him to apologize, but somehow hearing him say it woke him up, so to speak. He looked at his loyal servant. His closest friend. 

“What?” 

“I’m sorry. For lying. For everything.” He was shaking again. “I’ve only ever used my magic to protect you. To protect Camelot.” Arthur was silent, which he could tell made Merlin even more agitated. He just had to choose his next words. Merlin, who had done the work of a hero hundreds of times, and received no credit, who had to hide his skills from everyone, was apologizing. It didn’t seem right.

“No” Merlin flinched. _So much for tact_. “I mean… I need to apologize, too. I-I didn’t understand, I still don’t understand magic. Neither did my father. So, I’m sorry. For what you have been through. I’m sorry, and… uh… thank you.”

Merlin looked shocked.

“Y-you’re not angry?” 

“I mean… I wish you had told me. I wish you hadn’t thought I’d hurt you. But I understand why… I understand.” He felt ashamed now. Merlín watched him carefully. 

“I didn’t want to put you in that position.” He said quietly. “It was easier, and s-safer, to keep it a secret.” 

“I know.” There was another moment of silence, before Arthur spoke abruptly . “You’re not a monster.” 

Merlin looked down.

“All that, that wasn’t real. I feel like you… uh need to know that.”

“Yeah, okay” It wasn’t the most convincing answer, but he supposed I’d have to do for now. They sat there a moment , again. 

“Well, I think you deserve at least a week off.” Arthur decided. Merlin looked surprised at the mood change, but he cracked a small grin. 

“Not two?” He asked, cautiously but playful nonetheless. 

“Nope, I need my manservant eventually. And also we are going to need to talk.”

Merlin’s smile slid slightly. 

“About what?”

“I think I’ll need a magic consultant for my next big decision as king.” Merlin looked confused. Arthur gave him a playful punch. “I want to repeal the ban on magic.” 

The shock on Merlin’s face was brief, before a grin took its place.

“Really?” Arthur gave him a determined look.

“Yes.” He stood up and began to walk towards the door. “And also I need you to tell me every instance you saved my life. Starting with why you were always checking for wormwood.”

Merlin chuckled slightly and said:

“Gladly.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Perhaps I made Arthur’s reaction a little too rosy, but I just felt like there would be TOO much angst if I made him supper mad. Anyway, thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated


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